


Baritone

by MereWhispers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, F/M, HP: EWE, Injury, Mystery, Profanity, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MereWhispers/pseuds/MereWhispers
Summary: Hermione gets attacked by a Werewolf, and everything goes to hell. Secrets are revealed and lives are changed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> > ###### Because people were more interested in making assumptions than reading the story with full attentiveness, I've stopped posting this, here. Refer to my Profile for further details.
> 
> Apologies – I'm not good with summaries.
> 
> This is my take on a Werewolf AU. Here's hoping that y'all like it!
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Note:** _Expect regular, weekly updates till the 7th chapter. I have that much pre-written._
> 
> * * *

**_1_ **

* * *

“Hush, hush—move aside! _Move aside_ , Miss Greengrass!” McGonagall admonished as she led a very, _very_ much horrified Harry Potter—cradling a severely wounded Hermione Granger to his chest—and an injured Michael Corner into the Hogwarts gates. “Argus!” she called out, gesturing to the trio behind her. “Alert Poppy, _right_ _now_. We have an emergency.”

Susan Bones broke through the wall of students hovering in the archways, screaming at occasions, as she made her way to the Head Boy. “Michael!” she gasped, hands flying up to clasp over her mouth. Then she ran up to him and framed his injured face in her hands. “W—wh— _what_ happened?”

McGonagall rolled her eyes, swatting at Susan’s hands as the girl moved to trace the bloodied, lower lip of her boyfriend. “Now, now, Miss Bones—keep your hands _away_ from his wounds, understand? You can gush all you like, _later_ , when these are properly tended to.”

Nodding, Susan blinked back her tears, and gripped Michael’s cleaner hand to press a chaste kiss to his palm. “Take care, okay?”

Michael nodded, beginning to smile, but ending on a wince as his lip stung. “It isn’t ’uch, Sue,” he mumbled, trying not to injure his lip further. “You’ll have to take the ’atrols, tonight, though. Don’t think they’ll let’e go ’fore morning.” He immediately flinched as his lips smacked together, accidentally, to form the ‘m’ that he’d been avoiding.

Susan grimaced with him. “Don’t worry about the rounds, you _take care of yourself_ , d’you hear? I’ll see you later.”

Susan walked away, yelling at the crowd to go back into their respective dormitories, as she quickly caught up with her Head Girl duties.

McGonagall took a breath. “Very well. Now, Mister Corner, go to the infirmary and ask Madam Felicity to provide with the W.B.E. aid.” She paused. “What will you say?”

Michael cleared his throat. “I’ll ask the new intern to ’rovide with the _W.B.E_ aid.” He winced again, but refrained from rubbing his tongue against the gash, just as he’d been told to.

“Try to be as comprehensible as you can, while you’re at it, Mister Corner.” McGonagall nodded with a sigh. “Now, off you go.”

Michael walked away, and Harry fell in steps with McGonagall—following her brisk pace to wherever she was leading him.

“P—professor?” he asked, rearranging his hurt best friend in his arms. “Is sh—she going to be—”

“I don’t _know_ , Mister Potter!” McGonagall exclaimed, ire evident in her tone. She clicked her tongue in disappointment. “And for the love of Merlin, I _cannot_ _see_ what Miss Granger had to _look_ _for_ in those dangerous parts of the forest—on a _full moon_ , no less! She knows about _every_ _little thing_ that resides in there, and yet… Why did Michael accompany her, besides?”

Harry swallowed, taking a breath. “H—he didn’t _accompany_ her, actually.” McGonagall paused in her strides, giving him a quizzical look. “I—I mean she _called_ him. Not h—him, per se, but… _some_ one. Anyone. She’d sent off a P— _Patronus_ when she—when… when that wolf—”

“Yes, yes, I get it.” McGonagall hurriedly nodded, her own brain swiveling at the thoughts of a werewolf devouring her beloved student, and she quickened her pace towards the dungeons.

“We’re going to the _dungeons_ , Professor?” Harry asked incredulously. “This—”

“We’re going to _Slughorn_ , Harry,” McGonagall corrected, swiftly changing directions.

“Professor Slughorn? D—do we need some… some _potion_ —”

“For Merlin’s sake, _yes_ , Mister Potter!” McGonagall cried out, irritation getting the better of her. “What do you think is going to happen if the wolf’s poison touches her blood? If it _hasn’t_ already, that is.” Harry visibly shuddered, looking in concern at the pale girl in his arms. “And—take _very good_ care of keeping her blood away from _your_ epidermis, okay? Don’t let that gauge slip off the wound on her neck.”

Harry felt like crying. This was _terrible_!

“Horace!” McGonagall called out, glad to find Slughorn entering the Potions classroom. “We need your – your lectures are over, aren’t they?”

Frowning at the scene before him, Slughorn nodded. “Yes, yes, they are, Minerva. It’s just a couple of students doing extra-credit brewing for my stock. Why?”

McGonagall exhaled in momentary relief. “We need your assistance. We need to brew an _immediate_ batch of _Infectursa_.”

Slughorn made a surprised noise. “ _What_ ? _Infect_ —is everything _all right_ , Minerva?” he asked in concern, knowing very well that the potion was needed _only_ when the poison of a shape-shifting were-creature was in dangers of getting mixed with that of a human. Werewolf and Veela came to his mind, and his blood curdled.

“Clearly, Horace, it is _not_ ,” McGonagall said, gesturing to Harry.

Slughorn gasped. “Merlin’s _beard_ ! Is—is that Miss _Granger_ you’re carrying, there, Harry?” he asked, eyes wide in horror.

Recoiling in fear at the Potion Master’s immediate distress, Harry nodded. “It _is_ Hermione, sir.”

“Who all are in there with you, Horace?” McGonagall, then, questioned, vaguely pointing to the classroom.

“Oh, it’s just three of them. Draco Malfoy, Ernie Macmillan and Padma Patil.”

“Well, they’d have to be dismissed, won’t they?” McGonagall looked at Slughorn from above her glasses.

Slughorn’s face twisted in pain. “ _Obviously_ , Minerva. Have you sent a word to Poppy?”

“She’ll be here any minute.” McGonagall nodded.

Slughorn stepped into the classroom. “Kids, we have a crisis, tonight. I need the room for an emergency brewing. You’ll have to leave your potions as they are.”

Scowling at the intrusion, the three students glumly stood up, applying capturing charms—the ones introduced to them in Advanced Charms, this year—to keep the progress they’d made so far intact on their respective potions. Then they nodded curt farewells to each other and walked down the classroom—completely overlooking Harry’s huddled form in a shadow.

Before they could cross the threshold, however, Slughorn spoke again. “Mister Malfoy! Wait around, I could use some help.”

* * *

“What do you _mean_ by _severely harmed_ her, Harry?” Ginny yelled, furious at the dubious comments her boyfriend was giving about the attack on Hermione, which he’d told her and Ron about _very_ hesitantly. “Will she be fine?”

“I—I mean… McGonagall says she might—you know—not be _fine_ if the—the _poison_ makes contact wi—with her blood.” Harry took off his glasses with shaky fingers, looking at the cinders in the extinguished fireplace of the common room.

“Swear to Merlin, Harry, you’re being an _arse_ !” Ron glowered at him, lips twisted in a sneer. “You won’t tell us how bad she was injured, won’t tell us _where_ you left her off at—won’t even tell us if she’d be _okay_ , or not! Why did you tell us about the attack, in the first place?”

“I didn’t want to, okay?” Harry screamed, getting up and snarling down at his best friends. “I hadn’t wanted to tell you—to get you worried. But—but I thought of Hermione and how she—she _deserved_ to be worried about, and… told you.”

Ginny clicked her tongue, more than irritated at the childish behavior of the two males. “Harry, Ron— _slow down_ , okay? Take a breath, and—and _hope_ that she wins this.”

* * *

She _didn’t_ , however.

Draco Malfoy scowled and grunted at the empty phial which had contained the improper dosage of _Infectursa_ —he’d worked so _hard_ with Slughorn to brew it, _damn_ !—which Pomfrey’s intern gave to Hermione while Pomfrey herself had found dealing with minor bruises on Michael Corner—that would have healed within a _day_ , at most—more pressing.

He pitied the brown-haired, Gryffindor. She would have _hell_ to bear for the rest of her life.

* * *

Ron had wept into his pillow when McGonagall told them all about the ‘mating-dynamics’ of Hermione’s new life.

“Is he—is he doing okay?” Hermione asked, cautiously.

Harry sighed. “You have _no right_ to feel guilty, Hermione. This isn’t something you have a control over.”

“No, Harry, but I—I _still_ feel the same, believe me! My heart is _breaking_ for him, right now!”

“You _know_ that the emotional wreckage isn’t for _him_ , don’t you?” Harry frowned at her. “McGonagall told us about that—that ‘find the mate or die of heartbreak’ thing, didn’t she? Come on, ’Mione, you know better than this.”

Nodding, Hermione pursed her lips, her lashes wet. “I do. But—but it _feels_ as if it is all for him— _because of_ him.”

“McGonagall said that this is to continue,” Ginny whispered as she flopped down next to them—nodding in the direction of a haggard Ron stepping into the Common Room, when Harry and Hermione threw her a questioning look at her hushed tone, “for a while. Slughorn has predicted that there _is_ a blood-bonded mate of yours, out there, already—bitten by the same werewolf, _or_ someone whose skin has made contact with your blood, that is—and is possibly experiencing wild bouts of fury at your compassion for Ron.”

Hermione jerked back from looking at Ron with forlorn eyes as he walked up the steps to the dormitories. “ _What_?”

“Yes.” Ginny nodded, producing the piece of parchment that Slughorn had jotted down a few points for her on. “He said that the—the _wolf_ in you hasn’t awakened, yet. It would, of course, after you come in physical contact with your mate. But the wolf of your _mate_ is, unfortunately, very much _active_ and _really_ troubled by your feelings for a person who isn’t _him_.”

Hermione nodded, _awfully_ depressed by her predicament. “And? Did McGonagall have anything to add?”

Ginny flipped the parchment over, taking breath. “Yes. She suggested that we could use this—this— _whatever_ phenomenon this is, to figure out the mate’s identity.”

Harry’s eyes bulged. “My, God… Does she want Hermione to, y’know, get _intimate_ with Ron, or—”

“No, no, no.” Ginny shook her head. “The physical-contact thing works only for the mate, here. What affects _his_ behavior is Hermione’s _feelings_ , not her physical surroundings.”

Hermione frowned. “For how long am I to be babysat, by the way?” she asked, grumpily. “Why can’t _I_ go off collecting facts, and researching over _my_ condition?”

“You know why, ’Mione.” Harry sighed. “If, by accident, you make physical contact with your—the—the _mate_ ”—he grimaced—“then the—”

“ _Then the_ wolf in me can cause me to _snap_ , I know,” Hermione mumbled, slouching back into the sofa she sat on. “This _sucks_.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Harry muttered, holding Hermione’s hand while Ginny patted her head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for all the Kudos, the two Bookmarks and the one comment!
> 
> Here's the next one.
> 
> I got excited because I finished writing the eighth chapter of this fic, and posted this early.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _**Note:** I'm writing this story in a bizarre POV ― that is everyone's POVs, though broken into paragraphs. I don't know why this struck me, but it did and I just went with it. So. Keep that in mind if you're planning to give me a lecture on how I'm not supposed to write with "God's view" if I wanna tell a good story. I do love writing with the POV of one particular character, at a time – with at least proper paragraph breaks before skipping to another – but I'm not going to do anything about the way this one is written. _
> 
> _It's meant to stay that way._
> 
> * * *
> 
> So – read on!

**_2_ **

* * *

“So, what is the plan, _again_?” Ron asked, giving inconspicuous glances to Hermione’s winter-flushed, _adorable_ cheeks.

“Stop _fidgeting_ , Ron.” Ginny huffed. “You go up to Madam Puddifoot’s, Harry takes charge at Three Broomsticks, and I patrol near any clusters of students on the street—while Hermione—”

“Yeah, I got it,” Ron mumbled, immediately taking off in the direction of Madam Puddifoot’s.

Harry sighed in his wake. “He’s so _terrible_ , these days.” He looked at Hermione, who was watching sprinting redhead with as forlorn in her face. “You didn’t even get to say a fair goodbye, did you?”

Hermione smiled, wistfully. “Talk of anticlimactic.”

Patting her back, Ginny held hands with her as they walked up the main street of Hogsmeade. Harry gave them both a nod of farewell, changing directions as he walked off towards The Three Broomsticks.

“Why are we so sure about the person not being in Hog’s Head?” Hermione questioned, squinting at the passersby—observing them, as she was supposed to.

Ginny huffed out a laugh. “Really? You’ve got better standards than that.”

Hermione smiled, lightly. “I still feel it _all_ for Ron, you know,” she quietly said. “It’s as if—as if someone I love is _no more_. The pain, I mean.”

Ginny’s lips curled in a frown. “It’s dire, isn’t it? This entire... ‘breakup with your boyfriend because you've got a _mate_ , now’ – this―this _fiasco_?”

“I just hope that he isn’t someone gross.” Hermione let out a mirthless laugh. “Being forced is bad enough, as it is. I’d die if it turns out someone…” She broke of with a sigh. “He isn't going to be anything like _Ron_ , obviously. That would require seven years of friendship, and we don't have that much time.” She looked away, into the distant guzarne and bustle of Hogsmeade, a frown curving her lips downwards. “I'm being wrenched away from him, _just like that_ – in a day, no less, without any prior warning… and I haven't even gotten a chance to bid him a final farewell, as Harry has correctly observed. And here I thought our lives were going to get _better_ after Voldemort.”

“Don't I know that?” Ginny frowned. “You could have talked to Ron, though. I mean, you _should_ have – they should have allowed you to. But… that damning, supposed _pain_ of your mate's―” Ginny stopped, suddenly; an idea blooming in her head. “You haven't talked to Ron since yesterday, right, Hermione? Not even _once_?”

“Yeah?” Hermione tried imagining what the lips of a honey-blond haired, tan-skinned man would feel like, as he passed them by—and shuddered in disgust.

“We are—we are trying to get your mate to _react_ , right?” Ginny asked, excitement bubbling in her. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione nodded. “And you—you aren’t getting anywhere feeling _anything_ for these strangers, as we’d initially planned. Right?” Hermione nodded again. Ginny smiled in triumph. “I say—run off to Ron and have a moment of final adieu.”

Eyes widening in realization—and the brilliance of the idea—Hermione pulled Ginny in a quick hug before rushing off to Madam Puddifoot’s.

 

* * *

 

Draco clicked his tongue. “You _aren’t_ getting any—any so-called ‘juicy details _’_ , Daphne, stop buggering me, already.”

Pouting, Daphne poked into Blaise’s bicep. “I _saw_ her, Blaise; she was all _bloodied_! This cannot have been a mere _accidental fall_ , I’m telling you!”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “That I don’t know. What I _do_ , however, is that he’s not gonna say a word about this, however hard you might try.”

Draco winked at him, smirking at Daphne’s petulant harrumph.

Later, Draco would realize that _that_ was, perhaps, the _last_ playful gesture he was allowed for the night, because the next moment found him clutching at his chest as a searing, excruciating sting swelled up in his lungs— heart, too, if he was being honest—and he stumbled to his knees.

Blaise and Daphne stood up, petrified, as their best friend squirmed and writhed on the floor, attracting attention that he’d so _desperately_ been trying to keep away from, all through the year.

Daphne acted first, falling to her knees as she grabbed at Draco’s hand that wasn’t pinned to his chest—and was clawing at the floor, instead—and shook him vigorously. Blaise shook his head, blinking, then followed suit as he tried to keep Draco from passing out.

But then the two Slytherins were being pried off as a nervous, wide-eyed and more than upset Harry Potter knelt next to Draco. “Malfoy? Can you hear me?”

Draco peeled open his tightly clenched eyes at the foreign voice, the pain travelling sporadically through him as if it were the flashlight of a lighthouse on a wayward ship at night. He tried to nod. “Y—yea—ah… P—Pot—Pott— _er_?”

Harry sighed. “It’s me, yes. Listen to me _very_ carefully, Malfoy. I _know_ why this is happening to you, and I need your help in dealing with—with—with what this is, so that no one else is harmed. Are you understanding?” Harry’s voice was worn out as he looked at the blond before him. This was _worse_ than dealing with Voldemort, it seemed.

“Wha—what… I—I—I’ll t—ry… P—Po—”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine, I get it.” Harry hurriedly turned to the crouching, frightened pair of Slytherins. “Zabini, Greengrass—you two will have to report to Slughorn and ask him to get everything ready, _immediately_. And tell him… tell him it’s Draco,” he muttered, face dropping as he spoke the words.

Daphne frowned. “ _It’s_ Draco? Whatever do you mean, Potter? Is—was this _known_ to happen to someone? Is that—”

“Daph,” Blaise interrupted, seeming as much troubled as Daphne felt, “he surely knows something _important_ , here, hun. I don’t think we should wait around and watch while Draco…” He trailed off, pain flashing in his eyes as he looked at his best friend, again.

Nodding, Daphne gave Harry a final, parting glance of confusion before running out of the Three Broomsticks after Blaise.

“Man, you’ll have to get up and follow me out,” Harry told Draco, completely ignoring the crowd of people that was watching them with interest.

Draco grunted, blinking, as the throbbing in his chest receded. “What?” he said, groggily. “I _swear_ , Potter…” He muttered a curse under his breath as a spasm made him heave and waver for a moment on his way to sitting up. “I swear, I—I’ll _murder_ you if you’re found to—to have a hand in this,” he, then, spoke in a low hiss, glaring at Harry with half-shuttered eyes.

Harry scoffed. “Yeah, sure. As if I have nothing else to do, yeah?”

Slapping his hand away when it came to assist, Draco helped himself into a standing position by holding onto the table he’d been seated at, and completely ignored Harry’s presence for the next ten seconds. Finally, he sighed. “Alright, Potter. Lead the way.”

Harry rolled his eyes, walking ahead of Draco as they exited the pub.

And then Ginny was barreling towards them.

Harry held her by shoulders to prevent her from colliding into Draco’s frail body. They both jolted from the impact, and Harry noticed that Ginny hadn’t even looked at him all the while—her round eyes were fixated on Draco's hunched form, worry and bewilderment whirling in her irises.

“Wha—What is _he_ doing with you, Harry?” she asked, stepping away from him as she wrapped her arms around herself in apprehension.

Draco flinched.

Harry sighed. “Isn’t it… _obvious_ , Ginny?”

Ginny gasped, mouth agape, as she stared at Draco. “You’ve _got_ to be… Oh, Merlin! Harry, this is an _even_ worse turn of events in this sodden nightmare!”

Miserably, Harry nodded. “Where’s she?”

Ginny huffed out a breath, the exhale misting in the cold before her, as she fiddled with the loose strands of the Gryffindor scarf around her neck. “I—I sent her off to… to―to Ron.”

Harry sputtered, his head spinning. “ _What_? Why?”

“They deserved to, at least—I don’t know—have a… a—a _goodbye_ of sorts. That’s what you said, didn’t you?”

“I was observing that they never _had_ one, Gin, I wasn’t suggesting—”

Draco groaned, cutting off Harry. “Don’t tell me this is about Granger’s—her… her _condition_.” He shook his head, eyes shut in dismay.

Harry let out a humorless smirk. “We _sincerely_ wish it wasn’t.”

“And? Where _were_ you taking me?” Draco prodded further, tightening his overcoat around himself as a snowy gale blew over them. “To—to _Granger_?”

Shrugging off flakes from her hair with a scowl, Ginny scoffed. “We’re not _stupid_ , Malfoy. You’re going to Slughorn and McGonagall, right now.” She looked thoughtfully at her boyfriend—who was wiping his glasses with his gloved thumbs—and the still shaky blond next to him. “Harry,” she said as Draco shivered with a gust of wind, again, “I think we should accompany Malfoy to McGonagall’s office. He could use some… _help_ , in case—you know—just… _in case_.”

Pursing his lips, Harry clicked his tongue, but otherwise nodded at Ginny. They walked in silence – them trailing behind a seemingly-tipsy Draco.

A moment later, Ginny leant towards Harry. “He seems pretty jittery. Was it—were the symptoms _bad_?”

“ _Very_ ,” Harry agreed, barely holding back a shudder as he recalled the way the blond had been twisting and writhing on the floor. “He was—he was thrashing around as if—as if from a… a _Cruciatus_ , Ginny.” His voice quavered.

Ginny gulped. “Wh—what action, do you think, Hermione must have taken to—to cause _such_ an intense reaction from… from her mate?”

Harry grimaced. “Are you pointing out to how it’s very much likely that she’s gotten _more than_ intimate with Ron? _Thanks_ for the imagery.”

Ginny grimaced, too, but shook her head. “That is not an option, here, Harry,” she said. “It is the strength of her _emotions_ for someone else that troubles the mate, remember?”

Harry stopped walking. “That—is _correct_. You reckon she’s _okay_?”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Oh, Merlin! I—I didn’t think—”

“No problem, you can go look for her, _now_.” Harry quickly nodded, eyes following Draco’s silhouette that was now distancing because the two of them had stopped walking. “He isn’t quite being himself, is he?” he muttered, leaning down to leave a chaste kiss on Ginny’s cheek—to which she flushed crimson—and jogged away to Draco.

Ginny took a breath, calmed the raging adrenaline in her veins, before breaking into a run to Madam Puddifoot’s.

 

* * *

 

They’d shared a rather passionate kiss today. Hermione smiled between sniffles as she thought back to the only other that had carried _nearly_ the same passion―their kiss in the Chamber of Secrets, during the war.

This brought about another bout of tears.

Yet, through her foggy vision, she could make out concern etched over Ginny’s face as she neared her.

“’Mione,” Ginny breathed out, relieved to find the brunette in one piece—and _not_ with Ron. “Why are you sitting _here_?” she asked, though she herself made to brush away snow and settle on the boulder with Hermione.

“I needed some time to think, before—before I met the person that I am to spend the rest of my life tied to,” Hermione said, bitterly.

Ginny felt sympathy, _real_ sympathy for this girl, who was more of her boyfriend’s best friend than hers. She snaked a hand around Hermione’s neck, pulling her head of frizzy curls to rest on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, then, quietly. “I—it’s about to worsen, Hermione.”

Hermione frowned. _Worsen_? “How?”

“Your—um… the—the _mate_ … he isn’t someone you’d be happy about.”

“Is that so?” Hermione monotonously murmured.

Ginny sighed. “Okay, tell me what you were thinking about.”

“Ron,” she said without missing a beat.

Ginny hummed. “And? Is that shattering ache of a—a _heartbreak_ , as you put it, any better?”

Hermione snorted. “It isn’t going to get any better, just yet, is it? It’s still the same— _depressing_ …” She sniffled as more tears leaked from her eyes. “If not _worse_ after this bit of _closure_ with Ron.”

Ginny gasped at the gravity of it all hit her. “Merlin’s _pants_ , Hermione! You—you’ve been _weeping_ , aren’t you? Because you feel emotionally drenched?”

Hermione sat up straight, wiping at her face as she frowned at Ginny. “Yes?”

“And you’ve been thinking about _Ron_ , while you did?”

“Obviously.” Hermione blinked as Ginny’s head fell in her palms. “Ginny? What’s wrong?”

“Hermione,” Ginny mumbled. “He – the… _mate_ – he’s in pain. _Extreme_ amounts, really. Please try not—not to think about Ron.”

Hermione sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Draco's in! And he's the mate. Oh, well. 
> 
> _**Coming Next:** Their meeting, and slightly saucy themes._
> 
> Drop a comment, leave a Kudos, Bookmark this if you wish to receive alerts!
> 
> xoxo!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry – I'm so sorry, I forgot to update!

**_3_ **

* * *

 

Draco watched as Pomfrey performed spells after spells on him; the taste in his mouth had become truly _appalling_ after all of the potions that had been fed to him.

“Is—is there _no way_ out, Professor?” he asked, looking pleadingly at the Head of his house.

Slughorn shook his head, pity swimming in his eyes. “We don’t even know _how_ this has happened, Draco dear. Finding a _way out_ is really far-fetched at this point.”

Draco groaned. This was _miserable_ . Bound to the know-it-all, _swot_ -extraordinaire ― _forever_ ? Gah, his _life_ was miserable. And he hadn’t even been told the details about his _own_ wolf, so far. These people were rushing to ease him out of his physical pain, without any heed to the _psychological_ tsunami he was facing—not that he was _complaining_ about that, but a teensy bit of explanation would have been appreciated. Hell, he hadn’t even _known_ about this shitty truth about him before tonight, for Merlin’s sake!

“Professor?” Harry ventured.

Both McGonagall and Slughorn snapped their attention away from Draco to look at Harry. He moved to stand next to McGonagall. “She’s going to be _devastated_.”

McGonagall sighed. “At first, yes. But later, she’s going to be in _love_ with him, Harry. That is the point of them being _mates_ , you see.”

Harry shook his head, letting out a frustrated grunt. “Just like that? Like—like _magic_?”

Slughorn, Pomfrey and Draco looked at him funny at Harry’s absurd comparison. McGonagall, however, pursed her lips. “Yes, Mister Potter, like _Muggle_ -magic.”

Draco winced as another fit of pins and needles attacking his lungs, hit him. The other four shook their heads. Yes, his life was _certainly_ miserable.

* * *

 

“What do you _mean_ by you _can’t_ tell me?” Hermione hissed, dangerously, jabbing a finger into Harry’s sternum.

Ginny cringed. “You’re going to find out, anyway, Hermione. Just—just think of _whatever_ Pomfrey’s told you to, and enter the room.”

Hermione harrumphed, turning to face the wall that concealed the Room of Requirement, but did just that—shutting her eyes and imagining the sitting room at the flat she was currently living in, back at Diagon Alley, as she paced thrice before it.

And then the wall was dissolving into a gate.

“Remember,” called Harry, “your first contact’s gonna be _explosive_. Literally.”

She gave a withering glance over to Ginny before stepping through.

* * *

 

Her choice in decoration was impressive, if Draco was being honest.

He leant back in the mauve and white chaise as he heard her gasp. “Hello there,” he said, without looking away from the intricate, elephant-tusk carving on the coffee table that had caught his attention.

“ _You_ !” she hissed, advancing towards him with fire raging in her eyes. _He_ was the one? Oh, no. So, _so_ not happening. “Why? _How_ , Malfoy?”

Draco flinched at the venom in her voice. “Why, Granger, I’m equally overwhelmed.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, scuttling over to his chaise. Then he turned to look at her. Hermione was taken aback at the glimmer of gold sparkling in his all-silver eyes. She stepped around his seat to face him—towering him—as she looked down her nose at him.

“Why is it _you_?” she asked, icily, arms folded over her chest as she tapped her foot.

He rolled his eyes, rising from the plush, white-leather seat to shrug off the robes from over his uniform. Then he sat back, smirking. “Yes— _this_ is better. Now, where were we, Granger?”

Hermione snarled at his cheek. “You _shut up_ , Draco Malfoy! Just—just—just _don’t speak_ , alright?” Her shoulders slumped as the enormity of this nuisance reality weighed down upon her. “Y—you’re _really_ the one? My m—ma— _mate_?”

Draco frowned. She was behaving as if _he_ was the one who’d trapped _her_ in this chaotic mess! If only she hadn’t been stupid enough to venture into the darker regions of the Forbidden Forest, none of this would’ve even been happening, in the first place. The forest was named for some _reason_ , Salazar!

“Apparently, yes,” he murmured as an unnecessary answer to her rhetoric question. “You got some _potion_ you can use to _test_? Go ahead, then, don’t trust me.” He waved off a dismissive hand, leaning back on the chaise, even though he had trouble breathing through the throbbing around his windpipe.

And test she did, by placing her palm, flat, over the white linen of the school-shirt that was stretched across his rigid chest.

They both gasped as an inferno fuelled to life around them—and _between_ them, too, if the way her lungs released all of her breathed-in oxygen was an indication.

They watched in horror as flames enveloped _all_ of the room, including the walls _and_ the roof, save for an enigmatic circle— _cylinder_ , really, looking at how it went from the roof to the floor—around the chaise Draco sat on, and Hermione.

Hermione tried jerking her hand away, not being able to stand the power of his look, more so than his touch—it felt as if her very _soul_ was being licked at by waves of some sort of healing spell with ferociously possessive strokes. But Draco didn’t let her. He quickly wrapped his fingers around her dainty wrist, letting the power of her touch ease away the soreness that had seemed to permanently inhabit his chest in a matter of mere hours.

He looked away from the pale, creamy skin of her hand, and into her eyes. They were positively _wild_ —the brown getting mingled with streaks of gold. He tried taking a calming breath, but all that assaulted his nostrils was a _plethora_ of fruity fragrances—strawberry, orange, kiwi and cinnamon— _cinnamon_? Good Lord!—and he lost control.

Before she could register what was happening, Hermione was yanked into Draco’s lap—her legs dangling sideways off his thighs—and his lips were slanted over hers. She hummed in delight, shutting her eyes as the last, remaining bit of that ache in her heart was taken away. Then she parted her lips to take his soft, supple buds in, and a different ache took over.

She traced the inner wall of his lower lip with her tongue—causing his eyes to flutter shut—and he moaned into her mouth, his hands intensely finding a grip on her petite waist, the moment his brain reeled into action. He closed his lips around her warm, velvety soft tongue that was sidling over the inside of his lips, and sucked it in, rubbing his own against it as he basked in the tremors that shook his body with the intimacy of their contact.

Scraping her teeth over the tip of _his_ tongue, she let her own curl along; letting him kiss her as he pleased. Her entire body _thrummed_ with the little release Draco provided her with. His teeth, tongue and lips— _oh_ , those luscious lips!—worked in sync, not even _allowing_ her a fight before dominating her mouth. She purred in glee.

Freeing herself for a gasp of breath, she dived back, in a flash, and lightly grazed her lower teeth over his upper lip—he responded with a feral growl, the beast within him coming to life at the passion it’s mate accepted it with. Her hands busied themselves in an exploratory journey up his shoulders. She scraped her blunt nails over his nape, twisting her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, before fisting her hands properly in the longer locks at the back of his head.

He whined, then, and she was being dragged away from him, his hands a firm entity over her waist.

“No,” he panted. “No, _no_ , Granger. We cannot behave like—like cats in heat…”

Blinking away her dizzy vision, she looked around. The room had returned to a very proper, much undisturbed position—no trace of any fire or burns left behind. She jumped away from him, breathing labored, as she tried to catch her bearings. Her cheeks must have colored because his eyes—now perfectly _silver_ —twinkled with undeniable mirth.

“Randy much, eh?” Draco teased, trying hard but failing to look away from the _adorably_ rumpled mess she’d become.

Hermione flushed, her cheeks turning deep vermillion. “Y—y— _you_ initiated it…” she stuttered, patting her skirt down as she began inching back towards the door of the room.

Draco smirked. “And you lost your mind with the intensity of me, yeah?”

Making a strangled noise in the back of her throat, Hermione twisted on her heels to face the door. She couldn’t think clearly under his piercing, silver gaze. “Yeah, right,” she muttered, covering up her mortification. “These were the _wolves_ taking over, Malfoy. I thought you’d know better.”

Draco scoffed as she scrambled out of the room. She was going to blame their _infernal_ chemistry on their _wolves_ , now? Silly bint!

* * *

 

“Wait, _what_ ?” Pansy shrieked, her eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets. “Wh—wh—what do you _mean_ , Draco?”

Draco sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he flicked his wand, again—renewing the _Disillusionment_ charm in the alcove behind the tapestry they stood in—when a hurried pair of footsteps shuffled past them. “You heard me, Pans.”

“But—but… that—Draco, this… I—I…” Pansy sputtered, wrapping a hand over the back of her neck as she rolled her shoulders back in frustration. “You’re _perfectly_ certain that this isn’t a family curse?”

Draco scowled. “Pansy, I haven’t transformed _ever_ in my life! What do you _think_?”

Recoiling at his outrage, she lowly nodded. “That is right,” she mumbled. “You’d have known… Hell, _we all_ would have known! But… what else _can_ it be, Draco?”

Pansy flicked her wand as the buzz of the _Silencing_ charm over them began to wear off.

Draco sighed, looking beyond the flailing tapestry as a happily giggling Michael Corner and Susan Bones turned the corner they were hidden past. He frowned. “One thing is for sure,” he said, then. “What _ever_ this is, it has been present since _before_ the attack on Granger, that night. Corner was attacked by the same wolf, you know. And if a mate of hers didn’t already exist—as did I— _Corner_ would have fallen into the risk of becoming Granger’s _the one_ , instead, and his wounds wouldn’t have been as easy to heal as they were.”

Pansy nodded. “I see.” She squinted into space. “Draco, I think you need to look through some sort of old, Pureblood-family-journals, at the moment. Lucius might have hidden truths from you, for all you know.”

Draco looked at her in shock. “You—you mean I must look up journals, _not_ belonging to the Malfoy-family?”

“Don’t be horrified—you _know_ I can help you with that.” Pansy smiled, knowingly.

At that, he grinned. “Ah! Gonna go behind your fiancé’s back, are you?”

Flushing slightly, Pansy shook her head. “Not _behind his back_ , no. I’ll _talk_ to Theo—I’m pretty sure he’ll be more than happy to throw off those heavy, stinky tomes he keeps locked up in the attic of our new bungalow.”

Draco chuckled. “If you say so.” Then he grimaced. “And _please_ let the meeting place, tomorrow, be _anywhere_ , but here. Smuggling you into the school was as cumbersome for me as it would be suspicious in your fiancé’s eyes if he catches a whiff about it.”

Pansy smacked at his arm, but made a mental note of inviting Draco for tea at the new bungalow that she and Theo had shifted post their engagement. Oh, why _had_ her best-friend not visited, _already_?

 

* * *

“So… Malfoy’s a werewolf, too—that much is clear. How, why, _when_ ?—is immaterial for us.” Ginny nodded, thoughtfully looking at the slanting morning shadows they were making on the grass. “What _matters_ , is, why _your mate_.”

Hermione nodded, staring off into the Black Lake, trying o focus on the conversation going on around her—her brain was still assaulted by the images of her steamy encounter with Draco, last night.

“Uh, Hermione?” Harry called out.

Hermione lifted her eyes to meet the green pair past the glass of Harry’s spectacles. “Yeah?”

“Do you suppose this is some—I don’t know— _family curse_?” he asked, clearing his throat as the two Head students walked past the seated trio with a smile.

Hermione shrugged. “Can be that. All _I_ know is that he… he _is_ really a werewolf.” His silver-gold eyes flashed behind her eyelids, and Hermione realized that she’d shut hers.

Ginny placed an anxious hand on her shoulder. “Are you _sure_ you’re okay, Hermione? Did that—did that _fire_ in the room, last night… You weren’t _harmed_ , were you?”

Hermione smiled at the younger witch’s concern. “This is mere mental stress, Ginny, nothing else. I am perfectly healthy.”

Harry cleared his throat again as Draco whizzed past the bank of the Black Lake, escorting a cloaked figure out of the castle gates. Then his brows shot up. “Wh— _at_ is your mate _doing_ , there, ’Mione?”

Frowning, Hermione looked over at the position on the bridge Harry was pointing to. And, indeed, there was the distinct silhouette of Draco Malfoy, accompanying a huddled figure—that looked _distinctly_ _feminine_ —as they rushed away from the Hogwarts grounds.

Her blood simmering, head hurting, Hermione shot to her feet. “I’ll catch you guys later,” she whispered before running back into the castle.

Ginny hummed in her wake. “Jealousy?” She cocked a brow at Harry.

He huffed out a breath. “ _Pheromones_ , is more like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think?
> 
> xoxo!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here on time! My calendar's reminder worked, this once. It usually never does. 
> 
> So – a very Happy Republic Day to fellow Indians! <3

_**4** _

* * *

 

Draco’s steps faltered on his way to Advanced Transfiguration as the scent of very,  _ very _ familiar strawberries-oranges-kiwis-cinnamons fruit-punch attacked his senses. He took a deeper breath, and his feet wobbled.

“Whoa, whoa!” Blaise exclaimed, rushing back down the steps to grab Draco by his upper arms before the blond could crash to the floor. “What— _ easy _ , buddy; will you calm  _ down _ ?” He shook Draco as the latter thrashed in his hold.

Daphne stepped back, too. “What is it?” she tentatively asked, wrapping an arm about Draco’s waist. “Is it—is it the mark, again?” she asked in a more hushed tone.

Draco’s mind blanked for a moment before he recalled the made-up story of his extinct Dark Mark having been magicked by someone, enabling them to cast a  _ Cruciatus _ on Draco, that he’d fed Daphne and Blaise to keep them from figuring out the truth of behind that incident at The Three Broomsticks. He sighed, shaking his head. “Yes and no. It’s nothing  _ new _ , that is. After-effects of that day’s Cruciatus, is all.”

Nodding, Blaise cast an  _ Enervate _ on him. Perking up, Draco stood straight on his legs, nodding at Blaise in gratitude.

“I don’t think you should carry on to the class, Draco,” Daphne said, worriedly. “That is the least you can do, if you’re  _ still _ not ready to tell McGonagall about this. Blaise?”

Blaise hummed. “Take a break, man. Sleep it off. Take a detour to Pomfrey, even—you’d want to attend Advanced Potions, as it is, which would be right after lunch. Rest till then, yeah?”

Smiling in gratitude at the two, Draco turned on his heels and walked back to the Slytherin Common Room.

 

* * *

 

“Is that  _ it _ ?” Hermione asked; her eyes wide as she looked at Madam Pomfrey.

Pomfrey nodded. “It is, Miss Granger,  _ indeed _ .” She capped the bottle of the  _ Pepper-up _ potion that she had served Hermione. “What has been troubling you for the past week isn’t something medicinally amendable.”

Hermione frowned in confusion. She’d predicted PMS, first, when that excruciating headache had assaulted her. Then she’d blamed it on over-exertion due to her NEWTs’ preparation, when heavy strokes of sleepiness had begun accompanying the ache. But when the symptoms had intensified, and  _ vomits _ had joined in, too, she’d decided that this was something that needed a medi-witch’s attention. And, now, the medi-witch was practically telling her that she  _ couldn’t do _ anything?

“Well, then, what  _ is _ the solution to this, Madam Pomfrey?” she asked.

Pomfrey gave her a tight lipped smile. “Mister Malfoy, dear.”

Hermione’s eyes widened before fluttering shut as she passed out.

 

* * *

 

“And just when we think that things couldn’t have worsened, you begin to suffer with a damning  _ health issue _ !” Pansy crossed her arms, looking at the delirious blond in her bed in disdain as she hovered at the threshold.

“It’s not… not  _ normal _ , Pans,” Draco muttered. “This… it feels  _ more _ that a meager health-issue. Much,  _ much _ more.”

Pansy sighed, rubbing at her temples with the index finger and thumb of a hand as the other settled on her hip. “We’ve got  _ research _ to commence, Drake. You’ve got to buck up. Don’t make me  _ regret _ inviting you home, please.”

Pansy had  _ no idea _ about what was happening to him. It looked bad, yes, but she hadn’t been around as many ailing people to determine if this was an illness or some magical phenomena.

Draco  _ did _ , however, have an idea about what  _ exactly _ was going on. He hadn’t seen Granger for six days—his body was keeping him reminded.

 

* * *

 

“See this,” exclaimed Ginny, excitement perking her voice up. “‘ _ The best way to deal with the troubles caused by distancing from the mate _ ’,” she read aloud from the heavy book she’d been scrounging through for the past hour, “‘ _ is not the use of Wolfsbane, contrary to what the common belief around the Wizarding community is. In all honesty, potions, charms, spells are all the same when dealing with shape-shifting were-creatures:  _ **_weak_ ** _. Werewolves have a distinct advantage of having some or the other member of the pack posing as their mate, all life long — unlike Veela, who mate with one single individual through their entire lifespan — because, if their mate dies, they are allowed to bond again, and breed. And so, the most sensible action that can be taken to provide them relief from being distanced from their mate is that, as simple as it can be:  _ **_keeping them in proximity with their mate_ ** _. Further, wolves are beasts, having two major instincts:  _ **_feeding_ ** _ and  _ **_fu_ ** **’** —uh…” Ginny blushed scarlet, biting her lip she looked sideways at Harry.

Harry smirked. “What? Go ahead,  _ Professor _ ,” he teased, grinning cheekily as she reddened further.

She cleared her throat. “The—the bit ahead of this is rather… _immaterial_ for what we’ve been researching, Harry. And all we need, now”—she scowled as Harry snickered, but continued undeterred—“all we need to make sense of this new knowledge.”

“Well… let’s see,” Harry announced, preparing to summarize their entire research as he began counting on fingertips. “In brief, what we’ve learnt so far, today, is that wolves would only be distracted from their savage personality traits if they’re more focused on mating, and no amount of  _ Wolfsbane _ can help them in keeping their human heads about themselves in wolf form. And as they’ve got a…  _ constant supply _ of mates for the span of their lifetime, they’re never in a hurry to breed.” He grimaced. “Hence, for werewolves, the two of them are required to be kept in close proximity at the time of transformation to fuel it up.” Harry paused to take a breath. “Have I summed it up correctly?”

Ginny nodded; a victorious smirk lit her face up. “So  _ now _ you believe me about  _ Wolfsbane _ ?” she taunted. “I’d  _ told _ you that I’d overheard McGonagall and Pomfrey talking about some new books on Werewolves that McGonagall had ordered! They were  _ quarreling _ over what could they do about Hermione and Draco’s condition—surely they weren’t worried about the  _ cost _ of Wolfsbane! You  _ never _ believe me, Harry, and it’s time you change that habit.” Ginny folded her arms over her abdomen and sat into a library chair with smugly raised eyebrows. “This one’s from  _ Edwin K. Jaffrey _ , the epic  _ milestone _ in literature about Magical Creatures. Do you see,  _ now _ ?”

Harry sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose with a hand, while his glasses dangled off the fingers of the other. “I  _ see _ , Gin, yes,” he finally said, looking at his girlfriend with a small, guilty smile. “And it isn’t that I don’t  _ believe _ you. I do, Ginny,  _ really _ . This was just about what  _ I _ ’ve heard about Wolfsbane.”

“So have  _ I _ , but it isn’t really true in life, now, is it?” Ginny nodded, looking into space as she thought. “So… this means that the solution to the troubles that ’Mione is going through—possibly Malfoy, too—is keeping them… um…  _ close _ ?” she asked with a wince.

Harry shrugged. “Until you’ve overheard  _ more _ —this is all we know.”

“I say,” Ginny ducked her head to a side, looking at Harry with a gleam in her eyes, “what if we researched  _ more _ deeply?”

Harry blinked, rearing back in surprise. “ _ More deeply _ ? Who are you,  _ Hermione Granger _ ?” he asked, incredulously, to which she rolled her eyes. “We’ve gone through  _ every single book _ on shape-shifting were-creatures there  _ is _ in this library, Ginny, do you want us to—”

“I have a  _ plan _ , Harry!” Ginny snapped.

Harry shut his mouth, frowning slightly. “You do?”

Ginny stood up, collecting the books from the table as she gave him a lopsided smile. “Though it’s not against the  _ law _ , or something, but it’s a bit dubious. It  _ might _ work, that is. But,  _ hey _ —you’re no rule-preserver of the school. And you’ve fought  _ and _ defeated Voldemort.”

Harry swore under his breath.

 

* * *

 

“Drake?” Theo whispered, shoving his head through the gaping door of the room that Draco’d been living in since past eight days.

“Theo?” Draco frowned. The man kept busy and visited him very seldom.

“How’re you feeling, mate?” Theo stepped in, moving to settle on a chair kept next to the bed.

“You  _ really _ wanna know?” Draco asked darkly.

“No, uh, not  _ really _ .” Theo grinned. “I was being cordial.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “What do you want, man?” he breathed out. “Sure, you’re here for  _ some _ thing, right?”

Theo nodded, his demeanor slipping into a mask of seriousness. “Look, Draco. As you’ve just been a slab of meat—unproductive and  _ completely useless _ since you’ve come here—I and Pansy have realized that having you around is a total waste if you aren’t researching, and just lying there—”

“Theodore Nott,” Draco snarled, “I’ve _perfectly_ understood the part where you’ve both realized _how_ _much_ you’re really wishing you could throw me out, but because of your conscience’s intervention, you’re refraining—albeit very, _very_ regretfully.” Theo grinned. “Now—get to what you discussed _after_ that!”

“Right… so, as you’re just gonna lie there and contaminate Pansy’s bed, here—”

“Theo, what the  _ hell _ ? You’re  _ engaged _ ! She doesn’t even  _ need _ this goddamned bed, anymore!” Draco scowled.

Theo shrugged. “So she doesn’t. But that does  _ not _ mean that she isn’t  _ attached _ . She brought this here from her Dad’s, you know?”

“Trust Pansy to get attached to a  _ bed _ ,” Draco mumbled under his breath. “Now,” he snapped at the brown-haired wizard irritably, “will you  _ get on with it _ ?”

Theo smiled, nodding. “As  _ you _ won’t be able to start with the research work that you’ve got to do, Pansy and I’ve decided to take the responsibility in our hands.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Wha…  _ really _ ? You’re—you’re gonna  _ help _ me?”

Theo patted his shoulder. “This fate of yours is killing us both, too, Draco,” he said, his gloomy, dark eyes confirming his distress.

Draco smiled. “You need  _ any _ help—I’m here, okay?”

Theo sighed in mock-relief. “I thought you wouldn’t  _ ask _ !” He ducked as Draco tossed a throw-pillow at him with a chuckle. Then he focused. “To begin with—I’ve figured out a base to start our study with reference to.” At Draco’s nod, he continued, “According to what Pansy’s said, you’ve been through all of your ancestors’ journals, yeah?”

Draco nodded. “I sincerely do  _ not _ remember telling  _ Pansy _ that—but that’s right, yes.”

“ _ Excellent _ !” Theo exclaimed, ignoring the first half of what Draco said. “Now… apart from the fathers of the two of us, can you recall exactly  _ which _ forefathers of yours have been in close terms with my family?”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “ _ What _ ? Why do you wanna know  _ that _ ? If the Malfoy family had a secret, Theo, however much back in time might that be, it is likely that the  _ entire _ Wizarding world would have known! At least for the next  _ decade _ , or so.”

“It  _ is likely _ , as you said, Drake, not  _ certain _ . And, unlike you, History’s never been  _ my _ favorite subject—I can’t bear the thought of licking up every piece of parchment that my ancestors have smeared ink over.” Theo grimaced.

Draco huffed out a laugh. “That… makes sense. Gimme a moment to focus and I’ll be with you, okay?”

“I’ve got all day, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you.
> 
> xoxo!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yolo! Plot thickens, y'all.

**_5_ **

* * *

 

“Harry, you’ve got to  _ stop _ giving me those pitiful glances,” Hermione warned the spectacled wizard seated on the bed next to hers, Ginny giggling next to him.

“You  _ are _ being pathetic, Harry.” Ginny patted his knee.

Harry stood up with a sigh, raking a hand through—and further tousling—the bunch of chaotic hair on his head. “I… I don’t think I wanna be around while you—you know…” He shrugged uneasily, giving Ginny a meaningful look. “While you tell her what we’ve found out.”

Hermione frowned. “Found out? You two have been researching _again_?” She gasped. “Good Lord, _why_?” 

Ginny sighed. “How long do you plan on living with more  _ Pepper-up _ potion in your veins than blood, Hermione?” Miserably, she grasped a hand of Hermione’s between her palms. “We wanted to see if there was some out from this—this  _ pain _ of yours. Possibly, a permanent one. Possibly… one that  _ didn’t _ involve Malfoy.”

Eyes watering with the compassion she felt for these two people in her life, Hermione overlooked the stinging pain that erupted in her chest at the mention of her mate. “And?” she asked, blinking and clearing her vision. 

“We sneaked into McGonagall’s office,” Harry confessed with a sheepish smile. “Ginny had overheard her talking to Pomfrey about some new books… And we wanted to see—” At Hermione’s hiked brows, Harry broke his sentence off and put up his hands in surrender. “ _ Her _ idea! I merely plotted out the  _ route _ , I  _ swear _ !”

Ginny smirked when Hermione gave her a look of disbelief. “He’s right.” She shrugged.

“Alright,” Harry awkwardly mumbled, walking away. “I—I’ll stay out, while you…  _ tell her _ .”

“ _ Did _ you find something?” Hermione asked, squinting at Harry’s retreating form as she held her breath.

Ginny looked at her, apologetically, and nodded. “We figured something out, yes. And, though it  _ is _ permanent, Malfoy’s involvement  _ will _ be necessary.”

Hermione sighed,  _ actually _ not sure whether to be thankful for the development, or not. Then she thought rationally. “He’s my… my  _ mate _ , Gin. Guess we’ll have to swallow his involvement in everything that happens in my life, yeah?”

“You say that like it’s something  _ easy _ to swallow,” Ginny remarked with a tiny, amused twist to her lips.

Hermione huffed out a little laugh. “No, it isn’t. You  _ know _ it’s far from that. But can we  _ really _ avoid my state like that? We cannot continue to overlook the reality of my”—she shuddered—“ _ not _ being  _ human _ anymore—not for the sake of  _ convenience _ , least of all.”

Ginny grimaced. “Easy for you to say, ’Mione,” she murmured, picking at the edge of Hermione’s duvet. “But…” She hesitated, eying the pale brunette warily. This was going to cause an explosion in the poor girl’s head, Ginny knew. But that didn’t change the fact that Hermione  _ had _ to be told. And as her friends, the least she and Harry could do was save her the embarrassment that McGonagall or Pomfrey would cause when they told her. “That… isn’t  _ all _ ,” she, then, hesitantly began. Hermione frowned. “This—this  _ solution _ , y’know… if not worse, then it surely is  _ as _ terrible as your current situation. From where  _ we _ see it, at least.”

Hermione shut her eyes with a groan. “I’m gonna hazard a guess, here…” she mumbled, feeling queasy at the mere  _ thought _ of what she was about to say. “This—this has something to do with… you know…  _ mating _ … of sorts, yeah?”

Ginny sighed. “It has  _ everything _ to do with mating, Hermione, and more.”

 

* * *

 

“No, wait,” Pansy mumbled, shaking her head at her fiancé. “Come again?”

Theo sighed. He’d known this would be difficult. Pansy was  _ shell-shocked _ , already, and their blond guest had  _ yet _ to act like he had heard Theo’s lengthy rant. “You heard me, Pans.”

“No, but… Theo, you—I’m…” she sputtered, blinking rapidly as she tried to frame a coherent sentence. Then she took a breath, clicking her tongue as she glanced at Draco. “We’ve—you and I, I mean—we’ve known the Malfoy family,  _ all our lives _ , Theo. This—the… I don’t know—the  _ curse _ -but-not-a- _ family _ - _ curse _ thingy? I’m finding it  _ really _ hard to believe.”

Pansy was  _ beyond _ flustered. Theo sniffed, looking sharply at Draco. “You’ve got something to say, young man?”

Draco blinked, looking away from the vacant spot he’d been staring at to focus on his friend’s face. Theo was, without a doubt,  _ furious _ about this.  _ Why _ —was beyond Draco. “I have never known about this nuisance, guys,” he said, finally.

Pansy shut her eyes, letting out a tired breath. “At least we  _ know _ something?” she tried, softly, rubbing a comforting hand over Theo’s shoulder.

Theo scoffed. “I was better off  _ without _ this, Pans, spare me.”

Draco watched as the brunet scurried out of the room. “He’d come around, won’t he?”

Pansy smiled. “You know him as well as I do, Drake.”

Draco nodded, mind drawing a blank as he thought back to what Theo had discovered from one of his forefather’s journal.

“So,” Pansy began, picking at her silver painted, manicured nails, “ _ how _ do we approach this? Where do we begin?”

“I’ll have to go back to Hogwarts, I reckon.”

“Only  _ you _ , then.” Pansy nodded, pursing her lips. “I’ll pack off a stash of  _ Pepper-up _ s for you, okay? How many vials do you suggest?”

“Not less than two dozen.”

 

* * *

 

“The solution… Is it, like,  _ embarrassing _ ?” Ron asked in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning towards Harry.

Harry darted a quick glance at Hermione’s weakened body draped over the couch, just opposite the fireplace. “It’s  _ sad _ , Ron.  _ Unfortunate _ .”

“What do we  _ do _ , though?” Ginny added in another whisper, pulling at Harry’s arm to tilt him towards her. “We cannot let McGonagall know that we are  _ aware _ of the solution that she hasn’t told  _ anyone _ about. And Hermione’s gonna faint in embarrassment if  _ McGonagall _ repeats all the filthy details of that screwed-up nuisance of an out from this situation.”

“I…  _ think _ I know what can be done to avoid that,” Ron suggested, his voice loud, causing many heads turning towards their trio. Except  _ Hermione _ ’s, of course.

“Lower your  _ voice _ , Ronald!” Ginny hissed.

Harry frowned. “ _ What _ is it that you think?”

“You can talk to Malfoy. Ask him to talk to McGonagall—tell him Hermione already knows, but  _ McGonagall _ doesn’t know that Hermione knows. Make him a…  _ faux messenger _ ?”

 

* * *

 

McGonagall sighed. These two were meant to be the  _ brightest _ students, this year, and their studies were going to hell, in a  _ downward spiral _ , too, because  _ Lucius Malfoy _ couldn’t keep his stupidity under control. Well, that was what she’d gathered from what  _ Draco _ had told her. And she did, in fact, believe the boy. Lucius  _ was _ an awful idiot, without a doubt. How she wished she could  _ tear _ the fool’s limbs apart, and—

“Where did you say she is, Mister Malfoy?” Pomfrey asked the gloomy, tired,  _ wretched _ looking blond seated opposite the Headmistress’ table.

Draco’s shoulders slumped further. “Ginny Weasley said they’d taken her to the Black Lake. Said there’s some  _ peace _ that Granger finds, there.”

McGonagall nodded, sagely. “Listen  _ very carefully _ , Draco dear, because  _ you’ll _ have to explain it to Hermione.”

Draco acted surprised, the way he was  _ supposed _ to. He’d been told about Hermione’s discomfort—and her prior knowledge of this; whatever ‘ _ this _ ’ was—and that McGonagall was unaware of said prior knowledge. Potter had pulled him aside the  _ moment _ Draco was back at the school grounds to explain just  _ that _ . He wondered why the git didn’t tell him the  _ solution _ , too.  _ Draco _ didn’t cherish the idea of McGonagall discussing thwarting stuff with him,  _ either _ !

“You are going to get this one opportunity of turning, that you may consider once in a  _ lifetime _ ,” McGonagall began, sharing a look with Pomfrey at the last few words. “And that would be after you both…  _ mate _ .”

Draco nodded, waiting for her to continue. But, when she didn’t, did his eyes widened, and, “ _ Oh, Merlin _ .”

_ Mate _ . His libido had jerked to life at the word and breathing normally was suddenly becoming difficult..

“Yes.” McGonagall cleared her throat, awkwardly looking away from the student. “Right. So,  _ then _ , when you’ve both—ah— _ transformed _ ”—Pomfrey grimaced with her—“would be your chance of convers— _ communicating _ with him.”

Pomfrey frowned. “What’s wrong, Mister Malfoy? Do you need another  _ Pepper-up _ ?”

Draco grunted in negation. “I’m good.”

“Are you clear about  _ your  _ role, Draco?” McGonagall’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Draco’s brows wrinkled. “There’s  _ more _ ?”  _ Mate. _

“I’m afraid,  _ yes _ , Mister Malfoy,” McGonagall told him, feeling every bit of guilt that  _ didn’t _ belong to her. “Miss Granger’s situation is worse in all of this.”

A spasm went through Draco’s chest. “ _ What _ ?” he croaked.  _ Mate! _

“Werewolves tend to have a gestation period of—” Pomfrey stopped, clearing her throat at the bewildered, blank look on the young man’s face. “ _ Pregnancy _ . Werewolves tend to carry their babies— _ be pregnant _ —for about two to two-and-half months. Less than one-third the time taken by humans, that is.”

“And for those months,” McGonagall continued, “that curse isn’t going to allow the two of you to transform…  _ back _ .”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm late!
> 
> Warning: Explicitly sexual scenes ahead. Readers' discretion is advisable. 
> 
> The rating of the fic has been upped to 'Explicit'.

**_6_ **

* * *

 

“Do you  _ really _ think it would be safe, Harry?”

“Which part, Gin?” Harry grunted, sounding as frustrated as they all felt. “The two of them spending time in the forest alone, Hermione having  _ sex _ with Malfoy, or the two of them having a—I don’t know— _ conversation _ ?—with the werewolf that attacked Hermione?”

“I think  _ none _ is safe, Weasley.” Pansy got up from the couch, walking up to the window of her living room to peer out at the vast, blue dusk sky. “Anything can happen, after tonight; we all  _ know _ that.”

“Why isn’t your brother here, anyway?” Theo asked, off-handedly, as he settled next to Ginny on the loveseat.

Ginny shrugged. “He’s  _ trying _ to come around, but he is not exactly…  _ at ease _ with all of these happenings.”

“Ah, he’s  _ jealous _ , you mean?” Pansy twisted in place, smirking at the redhead who looked away.

“Shut it, Parkinson,” Harry snapped, giving the ex-Slytherin a cold glare. “We’ve got  _ far _ more troublesome matters to deal with.”

“And that is why,” Theo added, getting up and stretching, “ _ I’m _ calling it a night.”

Harry snorted. “Couldn’t bother till the moon was out,” he commented. “Poor Malfoy.  _ We _ worry about him more than his supposed best friend does.” With a scoff, Harry left the living room to move out to the porch of the bungalow.

“He doesn’t care much about Draco, does he?” Ginny frowned in the wake of the two men.

“Theo?” Pansy gave her a half-smile when Ginny nodded. “Quite the opposite, girl. He cares _too_ _much_.”

 

* * *

 

Draco had downed  _ fifteen _ vials of the  _ especially _ energizing batch of  _ Pepper-up _ potion that Pansy and Theo had whipped up for him. It had been a bit too much, yes, but at least he didn’t feel heavy-eyed for once in these  _ awfully _ long, ten days.

Hermione could see his form hunched over in apprehension—and if his feelings were similar to hers,  _ dread _ —beneath the canopy of trees that had been cleared for the two of them in the forests, not more than four miles from Pansy and Theo’s bungalow.

“Welcome.” Draco had felt her presence the moment she’d entered the cleared circle of trees. It was  _ too _ soothing to not feel.

Hermione sighed. “Long time.”

“Ten days,” he mumbled.

Hermione let out a little smirk at that. “You’ve been  _ counting _ , eh? Missed me, I see.”

“You have  _ no idea _ , Granger,” he growled, teeth barred. Hermione shivered. “I’ve felt it  _ worse _ , believe it or not.”

Hermione gulped. “Right.”

Then Draco looked up from the daunting shadows of the tress he’d been staring into, focusing straight at her radiant face. This wolf was making him find Hermione Granger  _ attractive _ . And beautiful. He could  _ cry _ .

Hermione walked up and slouched down on the grass, next to him. He cocked an eyebrow at her action, to which she shrugged. “The night has got  _ much _ worse things, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled. “Oh? That depends on how you  _ view _ it, Granger.”

“Can I ask you something?” she said, ignoring the sudden,  _ southern _ rush of blood in her system at his words; her knickers dampened.

“You know, Granger,” he commented, trying and failing to contain what he was about to say. “Wolves have a  _ really _ heightened sense of smell.”

Hermione frowned. “And?”

He smirked at her, giving her a pointed look. When she blinked, still not understanding, he dropped his gaze to her denim-covered crotch.

“Oh, God.” Hermione gasped, horrified, and  _ yet _ unbelievably aroused by the heat simmering behind the liquefied silver of his eyes.

And before she could react, or even  _ breathe _ , he was there.  _ There _ —looming over her; lips parted,  _ damp _ , pupils dilated—invading her personal space.

He trailed the pad of his index finger down the soft, smooth plane of her cheek, and she shivered under his touch.

Her eyes were  _ glowing _ in the moonlight – a beautiful swirl of golden surrounded by her signature brown, and he just—just  _ couldn’t _ hold back.

She gasped as his lips attached onto hers, taking her by surprise—then shuddered when an animalistic growl tore through his chest. Groaning at the feel of his warm,  _ so warm _ , chest against hers, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself to him, tugging on his lower lip, swathing her tongue over it, and scraping her teeth with  _ just _ the right pressure until he was growling  _ even _ loudly and pressing  _ more _ fiercely into her—so much that her back met the ground—and then pinning her wandering hands down, next to her head, as he extracted his lip from her grasp.

A shuddering breath left Hermione when he pulled away.

His face was bright—and just _so_ _beautiful_ , really, that her mouth actually _dropped open_ —as he hovered over her, eyes scanning her face and chest rising and falling quickly. “Are you a virgin?”

Her entire body  _ quaked _ at the hoarseness of his voice. She shook her head, silently.

The pins and needles that stabbed at his chest were quite expected. Even the faintest of  _ thoughts _ that she’d been so much as  _ touched _ by another man with less than pure, sacred,  _ platonic _ intension, sent bouts of anger rushing through his veins. He clenched his teeth shut, lest they chatter from the ache he couldn’t quite bear, at the moment.

She could see his agony. And had  _ some _ idea about where it had originated from. Squirming under him, she maneuvered her camisole up, around her chest, then her shoulders—around her neck, and finally off.

His eyes darkened.

The pain in Draco’s chest dulled, actually, as he scanned her partially naked torso. His  _ mate _ ’s partially naked torso. The wolf in him growled as raw lust surged through him. He placed a tentative, quivering palm over her smooth, flat, abdomen, cherishing the tremors that shook the muscles beneath her pale skin.

“This,” Draco began in a whisper, “what’s about to happen—it is life threatening. You understand that, right?”

Hermione swallowed. “I do.”

“And… I don’t know what’s going to happen, come morning. We may succeed—we may not.” He paused to take in a broken breath. “And if we don’t… We’ll—we’ll have to—”

“Do this again?” she cut in, shivering beneath him as goose-bumps broke all over her body, even though her skin was  _ far _ from cold. “I know.”

Draco’s sigh washed over her face. “And if we do succeed… please know that I’ll—I’ll do everything in my possession to take care of you. To keep you safe,” he whispered, brushing his palm over her belly.

A low, rumbling groan escaped her. “I—I do.”

Draco smiled at her, looking into her eyes for a longer moment, before his eyes went down to explore the treasure laid out before him. His hand, of its own accord, began racing patterns on her bare torso while he examined the undergarments she wore.

Hermione’s breath hitched. His skin against her was setting her  _ entire body _ on fire. She whimpered, pleading him, silently, to look  _ away _ from her bra clad breasts the way he was. But, instead, his lips parted with that sound and his tongue came out to wet them, and his irises liquefied further.

“ _ Oh _ !” she yelped as his lips closed around the tip of her left breast through the sheer layer of cloth. Then she was screaming into the quiet of the night, breathless with desire, as he suckled her nipples, vigorously. Sucking hard, rimming the hardened bud with his teeth before he flattened his tongue over it. Turn wise, he paid attention to both of her peaks, and she squirmed beneath him, her hands clawing at the soft grass she laid atop. Hermione mewled, her back curving and toes curling when his large hands mapped the expanse of her naked throat, suddenly, dropping down over her collarbones. Her tender, highly responsive breasts  _ tingled _ with the attention he laved upon them, and her body shuddered in his arms when he blew cold air over the damp cloth of her bra.

Then his heated gaze found hers, again, as he rose above her and divested himself of his shirt—linen, she thought, absent-mindedly—and her fingers went up to run over his abs, her blunt thumbnail tracing the dent of his navel. She felt his muscles jump beneath her hands, and redoubled her efforts in exploring him. She licked her lips, heart thudding in her chest, when he popped the button of his trousers open, giving her jeans a pointed look.

Shudders wracking her body, Hermione extracted herself from beneath him to work on her own trousers.

Draco’s breath was leaving him in short, rushed gasps as her jeans slid past her shapely legs—her golden skin glowing in the moonlight. Her underwear matched – virginal, pale-blue cotton with enough cloth to both her bra and knickers to cover her parts fully. He smiled.

She was a woman of self-confidence, and he could see that reflected in everything about her. He was going to learn to respect—and even  _ cherish _ —that in the long run.

“Draco,” she hoarsely whispered, awe spilling off her voice and her palm already flattening over the bulge in his silk underpants.

He hissed out a breath through clenched teeth when her palm curled over the impression of his shaft, thumb brushing over the wet spot on his tented boxers. Before he could collect his senses, her other hand was hooking into the elastic of its hem and pulling his boxers down.

Hermione bit her lower lip as his glorious, manly length was uncovered before her. All she wanted to do was to take him in her mouth and taste his essence until she’d had her fill.  _ He _ , however, seemed to have other plans as he pushed her on her back and hovered over her with desire tinged, golden eyes. “No time for all that, my mate,” he breathed out over her face. “I have to have you  _ now _ .”

That was the last warning Hermione was given before he ripped apart her bra, locking his knees between her thighs while one of his hands went down to explore the huge, wet patch on her knickers. She shot out a muffled scream into the crook of his neck, closing her eyes as heat exploded through her, ridding her of all thoughts and sending tingles of pleasure all through her body.

Draco bit his lip, watching her fall apart. He reached up with his other hand, brushing off a few tendrils of hair off her face before he leant down to kiss her.

Hermione moaned into his mouth, her hands fluttering all over his taut, muscled back, eager to feel all of him, while his own dragged her underwear down her thighs and off her body. His mouth left hers to place hot, open-mouthed kisses all over the span of her neck, his hands exploring the warm flesh of her thighs.

Draco flicked his tongue over the point on her throat where her pulse was jumping beneath the tender layer of flesh. His wolf growled with possessiveness at the taste, and Hermione convulsed below him. Immediately, he redirected his fingers towards her womanly core, snaking the palm of the other hand up her abdomen to cup her breast in a gentle grasp.

Her teeth chattered as Hermione growled. His mouth, unrelenting as it was, went further south to taste every inch of her breasts before resting back to suckle on her naked nipples. A cry tore itself apart from her throat, just as the fingers of his other hand stroked through her moist— _ more _ than just  _ moist _ —nether lips.

Draco groaned around a mouthful of her nipple, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin when his fingers felt the amount of juices she’d already leaked. Her body shook with silent tremors. He left her nipple with a final flick of his tongue, to, instead, examine the look of contentment over her face—her eyes shut and head thrown back as she panted through parted lips—and he took a short breath to compose himself before sliding a finger through her wet channel, squeezing the breast his other hand was cupped over, and clenching his teeth to hold back the roar that threatened to escape him when he felt her fluttering walls.

Hermione exploded, then, her senses catching fire as her nerve endings frizzled.

Draco watched her as she came down from her high, giving her a soft smile of reassurance before he wrapped both of his hand about her hips, canting her body to align her heated cavern with his throbbing member. He paused, then. Biting his lip as looked down at her flushed, swollen petals, and  _ groaning _ when the wetness smeared over them made them  _ glow _ . He pushed himself through her outer lips, waiting and gathering his bearings through deeply taken breaths. But, that didn’t help much, either, and all he could feel was Hermione and the smell of her arousal surrounding him.

Hermione was trembling from head to toe – each and every nerve of her body alerted while she held her breath in anticipation. She shuddered again, reaching with trembling hands to grip onto his sinewy forearms when she felt him slide in a fraction and pause.

Draco exhaled through his nose, lowering himself a bit when Hermione’s hand wrapped around his biceps. Then he ground his teeth and surged into her, finally joining them the way they were meant to be.

Hermione screamed, again, impossibly shocked at her body’s responsiveness as she exploded into her third orgasm of the night.

Draco pulled back, grinding his molars together and hissing as he breathed, when he felt her walls fluttering, again. Around  _ him _ , this time. There wasn’t any doubt—this was the most amazing feeling in the whole, wide world.

Hermione was certain she hadn’t ever felt as turned on as she did, right then, shaking beneath her mate as he roughly plunged in and out of her hungry, inviting body—filling her up with a force that she felt to her very  _ bones _ . Her nails dug into his back, drawing jagged, bloodied streams on his smooth flesh as she dragged them all over, twisting in place and rocking with him.

“ _ Gods _ ,” she breathed into his neck, hitching a leg over his hip when he wrapped an arm about her waist, pulling her along with every thrust and grinding their bodies together to press against that bundle of nerves atop her nether regions which sent her head spiraling,  _ again _ .

Draco swore into her hair when he felt her spasming around him, again. By this rate, she would pass out before he was even done. But, the next moment, his thoughts were cut off when Hermione hiked her other leg over his hip, forcing him to fold his knees and drag her down with him, while one of her hands pushed into his hair, tracing patterns over his scalp, and the other arm locked about his own waist, holding them together in place.

His pace began even more frenzied when her lips sought his collar-bones. Her tongue tracing the racing pulse on his neck became the final catalyst, and Draco exploded into the most powerful orgasm of his life, slumping over his mate’s body.

Hermione took in a shuddering breath—basking in the quiet around them that was filled by their combined pants.

“Now,” he began, brokenly, “we… w—we’ve to wait…”

Shutting her eyes, Hermione cradled him closer to herself and nodded. “We will.”

 

* * *

 

The first thing Draco registered was his heightened sense of smell—and the smell of his mate’s arousal, at the same time. The second thing was a feeling of extreme warmth, as if someone had put a blanket over him.

He opened his eyes, slowly, and realized that he was still entwined with his mate.  _ Only _ , his mate was now covered with a sleek, shiny fur of the same color as her riotous curls.

He sighed, mentally. They had  _ succeeded _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Kindly leave a Kudos, and review if you can.
> 
> xoxo!


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